


A Refreshing Perspective

by highfunctioningsarcastic



Series: Perspectives [2]
Category: Enola Holmes (2020)
Genre: But not exactly, F/M, First Love, Idiots in Love, Kind of a character study, Loving Marriage, Marriage of Convenience, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26840920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highfunctioningsarcastic/pseuds/highfunctioningsarcastic
Summary: The wedding is in an hour, and Enola isn’t sure why she’s so nervous. They’ve known each other for years; they’ve been engaged over eight months. Putting off the wedding--so carefully planned for Christmas Eve!--will do nothing for her nerves.Lil sequel.
Relationships: Enola Holmes & Eudoria Vernet Holmes, Enola Holmes & Mycroft Holmes, Enola Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Enola Holmes & Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury, Enola Holmes/Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury
Series: Perspectives [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957771
Comments: 27
Kudos: 350





	1. Introspective

The wedding is in an hour, and, pacing the Baker Street apartment she’s stayed in since she let her lease run out, Enola isn’t sure why she’s so nervous. They’ve known each other for years; they’ve been engaged over eight months. Putting off the wedding--so carefully planned for Christmas Eve!--will do nothing for her nerves. If anything, it would only serve to embolden those who talk behind their fans every time Tewkesbury arrives at a ball alone. 

There’s a knock at the door, and her brother enters.

“You look lovely, Enola.” She hears the emotion in Sherlock’s voice before she sees him, and smiles.

“You’re being emotional,” she teases lightly, turning to face him, then growing more serious. “It’s understandable but not, I think, unnecessary today.”

“No.”

“Is the carriage downstairs?” Sherlock nods, handing her a bouquet.

“Your young gentleman told me to bring you these.” Enola breathes in deep, the arrangement of pink and red camellias with 'princess' mushrooms tucked in--goodness knows where he found them--reassuring her that he’ll still be the same Tewkesbury she jumped off a train with.

“Thank you.” She precedes him down the stairs; Mycroft will meet them at the church.

The carriage catches in a dozen hidden holes along the way, nearly runs off the road into a snowbank on the way to the outskirts of London, and Mycroft is standing on the steps, impatient, when they arrive. 

“You’re late,” he says by way of greeting. “And your viscount--”

“I’m so glad you’ve arrived safely,” Tewkesbury says, coming around the church. Mycroft is apoplectic.

“The groom cannot see the bride before the wedding!”  
Tewkesbury looks nearly apologetic, but Enola speaks before he can voice an apology.

“We’ve never been much for following rules, I’m afraid.” Sherlock snorts. “I don’t see why we ought to start now, it would just give the guests an inaccurate impression of who you are and who you’re marrying.” For a moment, Enola wonders if Tewkesbury is going to kiss her, in front of the church and her brothers, before they are married. She wonders if she would like it.

“Well said, as always.” Tewkesbury tilts his top hat at her. “I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.” Enola smiles, and Tewkesbury vanishes around the corner of the church to re-enter through a side door.

“My god, what a way to begin the day,” Mycroft says as they watch him go. “Don’t wait long after I take my seat, little brother, the ceremony has been delayed enough as it is.”

“Don’t worry, elder brother,” Enola parrots. “I’ll make sure not to keep anyone waiting.” 

“You look very nice,” her eldest brother adds before ascending the steps. “Pray don’t embarrass the family by ruining your outfit.”

“He does know I bought the clothes myself?” Enola whispers to Sherlock. “And that he bears no expense should any harm come to any of it?”

Sherlock nods quickly, sharply, and offers her his arm. “Shall we?”

“Yes, I think we shall,” she says, taking it as they enter the church.


	2. Chapter 2

When she begins down the aisle, everyone is looking at her, and maybe that’s alright. The dress is meant, after all, to catch the eye, to attract, to tell more-eligible women in the room this is my day, and he will be my husband. The future husband in question may be crying, at the end of the aisle, but it isn’t the first time she’s seen her in the dress they chose together, so he’s putting it on, the podge. She lifts a brow and he starts glowing; she wonders idly who decided that the bride was the one supposed to be blushing.

She seems to glide down the aisle; Mycroft and Tewkesbury’s mother, soon to be the Dowager, stand in the front pew. Though they left a message for Eudoria with Edith, in the second row, she appears to have never received it or to not want to have come. 

When they reach the end of the aisle, Sherlock steps aside, stone-faced, and Enola wonders belatedly if she might cry. Why would she cry when she’s supposed to be happy? Her small, private smile for Tewkesbury slips, and she bites her lip. Perhaps she only thought this was what she wanted. Perhaps she can still stop the wedding. Should she stop the wedding?

Tewkesbury’s hand finds hers and squeezes, and she remembers why she’s here. They will be happy together; she knows this. She knows that neither of them will be happy with any other, that while she can remain unmarried comfortably, Tewkesbury cannot. He is smiling at her, the tears in her eyes reflected in his, and they turn to face the vicar.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered today in to witness the marriage of these two souls in the sight of God…” 

After the long, terrible silence when the vicar says ‘speak now or hereafter forever hold your peace’, the ceremony will not long remain clear in her memory. The vicar speaks, the choir sings, there is a long ‘wilt thou…’ that they both answer with ‘I do’. Then come the vows, and Tewkesbury holds Enola’s hand more tightly.

“I, James, take you, Enola, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do us part., and I hereto give thee my troth.”

“I, Enola, take you, James, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, til death do us part...and I hereto give the my troth.” He is still holding her hand, and she squeezes it lightly. 

“I now pronounce you man and wife.” If Enola is crying now, perhaps she can forgive herself. There is nothing save death that can separate them now, though they’ve both come far too close to that too often for her liking, and there is precious security in that. Viscountess Tewkesbury is openly sobbing into a handkerchief, Edith is crying softly, and even her brothers’ eyes look watery.

“You may kiss the bride.” Tewkesbury places his hands on her arms, so gently, and she stands on the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. His lips are warm, she thinks hazily. The kiss is soft and short and sweet, and after a quick smile at each other, they turn to face the congregation, hand in hand, blushing.

It’s only a short carriage ride to Basilwether Hall, where there is to be a celebratory ball, but Enola desperately needs a moment alone. She shuts herself into the womens’ lounge and inspects her hair before realizing that someone followed her into the private room.

“I’m sure Tewkesbury is far more capable of helping you with the flowers for the ball, Viscountess.”

“I’m flattered, my dear, but I’m only your mother, not your mother-in-law.” Enola whirls from the looking-glass and breaks into a radiant smile.

“You came!” Eudoria bites her lip. She’s nervous, Enola realizes, but why?

“Yes, I suppose I did. Will you be...happy with the Viscount, do you think?”

“Of course I will,” Enola says, forgetting her own hesitation.

“That is well and right, but I...I would not have you marry as I did,” her mother says, frowning, and Enola finds herself fighting to explain how much she wants this, than no matter how nervous she was beforehand, it’s nowhere near how happy she is that nothing and nobody can separate her from Tewkesbury now.

“I could not imagine myself married to anyone but him, Mother,” she says, and Eudoria looks somewhat relieved.

“Well,” Enola’s mother says uncomfortably. “I mean, if you must…” She stops again, searching for words that are honest yet hers. “I am glad you are happy and you must accept my best wishes for your marriage to Viscount Tewkesbury.”

“Thank you,” Enola whispers, and the silence stretches.

“Enola? Are you in here?” She blinks away sudden tears and raises her voice to answer her husband. Her husband.

“Yes, I am, could you come in for a moment?”

“Into the women’s lounge?”

“Yes, nincompoop.” Tewesbury enters, mumbling about Mycroft and mothers, conventionality and marriage, but stops short when he sees Eudoria.

“Mrs Holmes, I presume?”

“Yes, this is my mother. Mother, this is the man I will be happy with.” They observe one another for a moment.

“Merry Christmas,” Eudoria says abruptly, with a curtsy so small Enola wonders if she imagined it, and exits the room. They watch her leave the church with a nod to Edith.

“Well, now you’re never going to be rid of me, Viscount Tewkesbury,” Enola says, and he laughs.

“I wouldn’t want to be, love,” he says, leaning down to kiss her again.

“Enola!” Mycroft is standing in the doorway, scandalized.

“Yes, brother?” The eldest Holmes sibling heaves a long-suffering sigh before gesturing to the entrance of the church.

“The snow is getting worse, and we really ought to be at Basilwether Hall before the guests wonder if there was actually a wedding or if the dowager simply threw a ball on Christmas Eve for the fun of it.”

“We’ll be there,” Tewkesbury says, and after frowning for a moment, Mycroft leaves. 

“Do we have to go to the ball?” Tewkesbury shakes his head, smiling.

“I think you’ll actually quite enjoy dancing, but no,we needn’t stay longer than a couple of hours. The roses are truly spectacular if I do say so myself, however.” Enola punches his shoulder lightly, and he catches the hand to tuck in the crook of his arm. "Have I told you I love you, Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether?"

"I would hear it again."

"Then I tell you, I love you. And I never want to have to leave you." 

"What do you think those vows were for?" They laugh, and Enola leans her head against his shoulder.

"Ought I be concerned by the fact that you haven't told me you love me?" Tewkesbury stops in his tracks and turns to face her, his face serious.

"I love you, Enola Holmes. I always have. And I always will."

They are late to the ball, her hair unpinned and his cravat mussed, and the partygoers whisper. Enola and Tewkesbury could not care less; they're too busy examining the flower arrangements.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried so hard not to give Tewkes a name, but oh well. I've had so much fun with this! x


End file.
